


Siege

by insignem



Series: Siege/Surrender [1]
Category: The Old Guard (2020 Movie), The Old Guard (Comic)
Genre: 1099 CE, Joe and Nicky meet for the first time, M/M, Religion, The Crusades, The Siege of Jerusalem, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insignem/pseuds/insignem
Summary: And he cannot admit – cannot face – that all that hunger, all that yearning, is driving him not to carry out God’s holy purpose, but to find this man he sees in his dreams.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Siege/Surrender [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863241
Comments: 66
Kudos: 892





	Siege

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this completely took over my life today! I had to write their first meeting. This is based heavily upon their meeting scene from the comic (https://sockich.tumblr.com/post/623307271340949504/nicky-and-joe-theyre-just-over-a-thousand-now), but inspired entirely by the movie. I hope you like it.

In the weeks they have been camped before the walls of the holy city, Nicolo has felt a hunger like nothing he has ever experienced: beyond the physical gnawing in his gut, beyond the confines of his earthly body, he aches for something he cannot name. It drew him here, to the walls of Jerusalem. It calls him to fight each day, to wield his spear and sword against those he has sworn himself to defeat.

He tells himself it is the will of God, driving him and filling him with holy purpose. He grasps the cross and prays each night before he sleeps, asking God for strength and guidance. And yet, each night he dreams – he dreams of a man, a man inside the city walls, a man who wears the colors of the enemy.

And he cannot admit – cannot face – that all that hunger, all that yearning, is driving him not to carry out God’s holy purpose, but to find this man he sees in his dreams.

*

There is a tension inside the holy city, a current of fear brought by the sight of the Christian invaders and their siege weapons arrayed before its walls. This city is not Yusuf’s home, but he has sworn to defend it in the name of his people and his God.

He has prepared himself for battle day after day. His swords are sharp; his soul is ready. But his hands- his hands are restless. He finds himself drawing, unable to stop. Over and over, he draws a face. It’s a face he cannot stop seeing at night when he dreams; even awake, he sees it when he closes his eyes.

The man that this face belongs to is out there, he knows. He has been given a gift, a vision sent from God – a vision of the enemy he must defeat. And so he waits, and his fingers dance, and he sharpens his sword, and he draws and he draws and he draws – until the day comes that he must carry out his mission, a holy warrior sent to carry out God’s will, to find the man whose face he cannot escape.

*

When the armies come together, they do so with a clash so loud that its echoes rise to the heavens themselves. Blades ring against blades; arrows rend the air – and flesh – as they fly. Great stones crash upon greater walls, with force enough that the walls begin to crumble under their impact.

Men fall. Horses scream. And amidst it all, two men search for each other: guided by dreams, guided by their faith, they each seek out the other in the heart of the battle.

*

Nicolo loses count of soldiers he’s killed as the tumult of battle sucks him in. He and the stallion he rides swerve and spin, thrusting his spear into the chaos again and again as he desperately searches for the face of the man he has seen. A blade comes plunging towards him and instinct sends his shield up, blocking; the force of it sends a shock of pain through his shield arm.

The city’s defenses have been breached by his army’s siege weapons. It is only a matter of time until the walls fall, and Nicolo is prepared. He scans for his fellow cavalrymen – and then a flash of color against the collapsing heap of stone catches his eye. A man is leaping down from the breach, sword in hand, hair flying. It’s him – he knows it in his bones, and he is electrified by the sight.

He bellows and wheels his horse, pointing him towards the walls. They charge. Arrows come whistling for them, and Nicolo ducks behind his shield, hearing his horse scream as he’s hit. He gallops on until they are close enough that Nicolo can see the face of the man on the stones above him, can see the fierce rage in his eyes.

His horse stumbles and falls beneath him, and then the man hurls himself off the wall. His cry pierces Nicolo’s ears just before the weight of the man crashes into him, throwing them both into the dust. He loses his spear in the fall and grasps blindly for his sword, already swinging it by the time the man has staggered to his feet and drawn his.

His foe dodges, quick as a darting snake, then throws himself back on top of Nicolo. Before he can react, a sear of pain scorches his thigh; the man has a dagger in hand that he’s plunged into his leg. He grunts and swings his hand, crashing the hilt of his sword into the man’s temple.

He scrambles out from underneath him, thrusting his sword again, but the man gets his up and blocks the blow. As Nicolo reels back, the man comes at him, swinging his sword with a brutal grace. Nicolo gets his shield up, ramming it into the man’s face, gouging him with the arrows still jutting out of it.

The intensity in his dark eyes isn’t dimmed by the blood dripping down them, and Nicolo cannot move quickly enough to dodge his next blow. White-hot pain rips across his gut as the man’s sword slices through, and Nicolo knows immediately it’s a mortal blow.

But by his God he will bring this man down with him. He knows it now, as something like peace settles in, that this is the purpose he has been brought here for, and with a final scream he thrusts his sword through the man’s chest, running him clean through.

They collapse back into the dust together. Nicolo sees the man’s lips moving, murmurs his own prayer as he feels his life ebb away. He is on a mission from God, and he will see the gates of Heaven soon. But as his eyes fall shut, the only thing he can see in the darkness is the face of the man who has killed him.

*

As the walls fall around him, Yusuf sees the man he’s come to recognize as clearly as his own kin, mounted on a warhorse and preparing to charge the gates. A holy rage fills him as the man draws nearer; his mount hobbled by the arrows raining down, and he throws himself off the walls and onto his enemy.

They fight, scrabbling in the dust, trading blow after blow until the man’s dragging leg is dripping blood and he can taste the salt and iron of his own as it runs down his face. He’s determined to end the man’s life, even if it comes at the cost of his own, for this is what his God wills.

The man’s eyes are wide, and very blue. Yusuf swings his sword in an arc that slices through the man’s gut; he sees the viscera spill forth and knows that he’s made a killing blow. He is frozen for a moment too long as their eyes lock again, and then Yusuf feels the sword stab through his chest. He falls heavily, next to the man he’s killed and who has killed him. His rage subsides. He feels only peace. He silently mouths a prayer, and as his mind grows dark, it’s those wide blue eyes that remain.

*

As the day turns to night, the battlefield lies deserted. The slaughter has moved inside the broken walls of the city. Out on the plains, the bodies of countless men sprawl in the dust. It is silent. Nothing moves.

Then a gasp. Then another. Two bodies stir.

*

Yusuf feels consciousness return to him as if from a distance, as if light is spilling through the crack in a door frame, not enough to see by, but enough to dimly make out the shapes and shadows of things. He feels pain – great, terrible pain – but it is fading, not getting worse.

He gasps, suddenly, air spilling into hungry lungs. His eyes fly open. The night is dark and quiet, but there are stars above him. How can this be? His pain is gone. Is this death?

Movement catches his eye. A body shudders beside him. His hand flies to his belt, but his dagger isn’t there. He scrabbles in the dirt. Hand grasps hilt.

He staggers to his feet and stumbles back as the man he last remembers killing rolls over and coughs, grasping at his stomach.  
He draws frantic breaths for a moment, then his head swings around and his eyes meet Yusuf’s. Yusuf hardly has time to brace himself before the man is up, a knife in hand, and he’s leaping for him.

*

Nicolo wakes up to a memory of roaring pain in his gut, but as he coughs for air and fumbles for his stomach, he feels no wound. There’s blood on his clothes, but it’s dry. He is certain – he was certain – that he had died. That the last thing he had seen was the face of the man he had brought down beside him.

There are bodies all around him, but none match the man he knows so clearly. He looks around wildly, desperate to find the corpse – he’d run him through, there was no way he could have survived - but he finds him standing, staring at him wide-eyed. Their eyes lock, and renewed hate flows through him. If God has brought him back, it is to vanquish this unholy infidel.

He finds a knife and throws himself at the man, ready to end his life once again.

*

Nicolo loses track of how many times he’s died, of how many times they’ve fought, each one more brutal than the last. Their wounds are both healing as fast as each can make a new one, and Nicolo begins to wonder if their weapons are cursed – or blessed.

They’ve reached the edge of the battlefield by this point, where a ravine drops off precipitously towards the valley below. Nicolo throws aside his sword and hauls the largest rock he can find over his head. He feels a knife plunge into his back as he does so, and smashes the rock down upon the man’s skull with all of the strength he has left. The force of it sends him stumbling over the edge of the cliff – the other man falls with him.

*

As he has started to become accustomed, Yusuf finds himself gasping awake out of blackness. He can feel the shattered pieces of his skull fusing themselves back together, and watches as the mangled spine of the man sprawled next to him starts to straighten out, bone by bone.

He gives the man a moment to come back to alertness, to get his bearings, as has become their practice, and then throws himself upon him. His fingers lock tight around the man’s throat, holding him down.

As they struggle, Yusuf feels a knife stab into his side over and over. He feels himself fading and his grip starts to slacken, but even as it does, the other man’s thrashing subsides.

*

When Yusuf comes to, he’s lying face down in the dust. He chokes as he breathes it in, flailing his way onto his back and coughing mightily as he struggles to breath. He finally brings himself to sit up, noting distantly that a dull, dusty light now fills the air. He’s unsure how many days have passed since they started fighting. There’s a smell of smoke in the sky, and flies and carrion birds buzz around the bodies of other warriors who had fallen into the ravine.

The other man’s body is sprawled on the ground just a few yards a way, a knife still sticking out of his back, and Yusuf wonders if this time he’s finally dead. He cannot hope for long, though, for just after he has this thought, the man convulses and begins to cough.

Yusuf sighs and half-heartedly looks around himself for a weapon. A bone-deep weariness has replaced his rage; the futility of their fights to the death has led him to question what he had so firmly believed: How can God be directing him to kill this man, if this man cannot be killed?

His walks over to the man, still prone on the ground. He meets those striking blue eyes, as wary and as weary as his own, and Yusuf still is not sure what to do. His hands are empty.

His dreams led him to this man. Perhaps his God did not want for them to kill each other. Perhaps they have been brought to each other for another purpose. He holds out his hand.

*

As Nicolo lies in the dust, he considers whether he has it in him to fight another round. He considers whether he even wants to. His opponent has proved a worthy one. He fights with a nobility and a skill that Nicolo cannot help but to admire, and there is something in those dark eyes of his that makes him want to learn more about the man, rather than to keep putting the light out of them.

He has now died so many times. This has to be a message from his God, but what is the message? What is it that has driven him to this place, that has brought him back from death over and over, only to find himself still beside this man?

He hears footsteps, and half-raises himself from the dust. His opponent stands before him, gesturing with an empty hand. His eyes are warm. Nicolo hesitates, unsure. But he sees something he recognizes in those eyes, and after a moment, he nods.

The man gently pulls the knife out of his back. He feels his flesh knit back together, leaving him whole once again. He sits up, and the man sits down beside him, making a sound that almost seems like a laugh.

They stare at each other in the calm, taking in each detail of the other’s face. Nicolo tries to think of words he can say. He knows several languages, but only a few words of this man’s tongue. “I am Nicolo,” he tries.

The other man’s forehead creases. He looks amused. “I am Yusuf,” he replies, in Nicolo’s own language. His surprise must show, for Yusuf gestures towards the coat of arms he wears on his now-tattered clothing.

“You are from Genoa?” Nicolo nods. “Before I was a soldier, I was a merchant. I traveled to your city to trade. It was useful to know the language.”

“I am sorry I cannot speak yours,” Nicolo says. “Yusuf… I have seen you. In my dreams.”

“I saw you, too. I believed it was a vision from God, sending me to bring you to your death.”

Nicolo reaches for the cross that hangs from his neck. It’s gone – lost somewhere in the fighting. “I think… I think you are the reason I came here. I think it is fate that has brought us together.”

*

Yusuf quirks an eyebrow at these words. “Fate, you think? And why would fate bring us together?”

The man, Nicolo, has an urgency in his wide blue eyes. “I do not know. I do not know how God works; I do not presume to ask why. But I do know that our dreams brought us to each other. That we cannot die by each other’s hand. It is a miracle, to learn of such a gift. To share it with someone.”

A miracle. Perhaps it was. Yusuf finds himself smiling. After what they have gone through together, it is an unexpected thing, to hear such kinship in this man’s voice. “How can we both have been given this gift from God, if we are fighting on opposite sides of a holy war?”

Nicolo looks down at his hands. “We worship the same God, do we not? There is but one God.” His voice is soft, and Yusuf thinks he hears sadness there too. He turns to his gaze to the hill where smoke was clouding the sky.

Nicolo follows his gaze. “I am sorry for your city. I hope that my people are merciful, and that your people are not suffering.”

Yusuf is struck again by the kindness this man shows; how odd it is compared to the rage with which they had fought so recently.

“It is not my city,” Yusuf tells him. “I come from Tunis. Closer to your home than to here.”

“Will you go back there?”

Yusuf tries to imagine returning to his home city. Going back to trading. Back to the life he had before this strange, kind man who could not be killed crashed into it, back to before he had died.

“I feel… I feel that life is over now,” he says finally. “And you? Will you go home?”

Nicolo stares back at him, as though searching for an answer in Yusuf’s own eyes. “I do not think I can, either. We may not have stayed dead, but…” He pauses. “We have died. We have passed beyond what any mortal will ever know. And we have come back, together. I think we are meant to stay this way.”

Yusuf’s heart pounds at these words. There is so much they don’t know – about what has happened to them, about each other. But he feels in his heart that Nicolo is right. Fate has driven them to each other, and it is not so hard to believe that this is a gift. That despite everything, they are meant to stay together.

*

Together, they find a place of shelter, away from the carnage of the battlefield. Together, they let their exhausted minds rest into sleep. Together, they each dream of three others like them – two women and a man – and together, they consider what it could mean.

Three months later, Andromache, Lykon, and Quynh find them.

**Author's Note:**

> A handful of notes!  
> \- A promo video for the film said that Yusuf was both a merchant and an artist, hence those depictions. The video also said he is from the Maghrib, and since Marwan is Dutch-Tunisian, I went with him being from Tunisia... tumblr has led me to believe there may be some historical inaccuracies here, but we'll go with it.  
> \- I did a lot of research today. I'm not entirely convinced that what Nicky would have spoken Italian as a Genoan in the 11th century, so I didn't name the language. I assume by the time of the movie they both speak many languages, but since they never speak Arabic in the movie, I have created the headcanon that Joe is much better at language than Nicky.  
> -Also, wasn't sure whether to go with Genoa/Genova, but chose the former since I'm writing in English,  
> \- I hope none of the religious stuff was offensive or overtly wrong. I tried to keep it vague, as I am not a member of either faith.  
> -Sadly, the Siege of Jerusalem ended with a brutal slaughter of the city's inhabitants. I cannot imagine Nicky would have been involved with that... hence his hope for mercy.
> 
> I will definitely write at least one follow-up to this, where they begin to fall in love. Thank you for reading; I hope you liked it and would love to hear what you think!


End file.
